


By His Side

by aravenwood



Series: Whumptober 2020 [25]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mortal, BAMF Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, BAMF Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Blood and Injury, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mercenaries, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Whump, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Protective Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Mortal AU. Nicky doesn’t have time to think before he’s pushing Joe out of the path of a speeding bullet.Written for the Whumptober 2020 prompt "ignoring an injury".
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Whumptober 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947343
Comments: 18
Kudos: 299
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	By His Side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Sooooo, as of right now it is 22:57 here and I have just finished editing this fic. I finished writing it about twenty minutes ago...it has been a busy, hectic week and today everything caught up a tiny bit. This year has just been exhausting and it shows no signs of easing up. It's a good thing my sanity and mental health states are already pretty low or this week would be a curling up week.
> 
> But it's a good thing I have my Joe and Nicky, writing them makes everything better.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Nicky doesn’t have time to think before he’s pushing Joe out of the path of a speeding bullet. There’s no time to think, there’s only the instinctive fear of losing Joe that has him tackling his lover to the ground, ignoring the bite of the bullet as it slices through the soft flesh above his left hip. He barely feels it, his heart pumping so much adrenalin through his veins that his body is almost numb.

His only concern is Joe. That’s all that matters right now. “Are you hurt?” he whispers to the body pinned beneath his own, unwilling to draw their attackers’ attention just yet.

Joe lets out a quiet groan and lifts one hand to rub the back of his head through thick, dark curls. His eyes are narrowed against the pain but other than a knock to the head, he seems unharmed. But Nicky can’t relax until he hears it from Joe’s own lips.

“I’m fine,” Joe says, and Nicky lets out a quiet sigh of relief. His lips curl into a soft smile as his eyes meet Joe’s, his heart fluttering the way it always does when Joe looks at him - a silly little reflex that even five years of dating has been unable to shake from him. All he wants to do is lean in and press his lips to Joe’s, to feel their warmth against his, to prove that they are safe.

But then he hears, “finish them off,” from the other side of the room and the world around him regains some of its focus.

A quick pat to the chest has him rolling off Joe and scrambling behind the cover of a large metal filing cabinet, scooping up his pistol on the way. He crouches low, keeping his head well protected, and clicks the safety off his gun.

Now that they know they’re being attacked, the gunfight is almost depressingly fast. It doesn’t take long to finish off the five men and their leader, each of them falling victim to a well-placed headshot from either Joe or Nicky - three kills each, a draw, which Nicky feels pretty happy about.

It’s only when the last man falls that Nicky’s heart starts to slow and his adrenalin rush falters, and that’s when he becomes aware of the pain in his side. He glances down as he lowers his gun and grimaces at the growing red stain on his t-shirt. Shit ok, maybe it’s a worse wound than he first thought, if it’s bleeding like that. He lifts his shirt to get a better look at the wound and finds not a graze like he first thought but a real bullet wound. “Shit,” he hisses and lets the hem of his shirt fall back over the wound.

Joe glances up, eyebrows raised. It’s obvious when he notices the blood because they somehow manage to shoot up even further as he lets out a string of curses and half-sprints to Nicky’s side. “Fuck, shit ok. How bad is it? How are you feeling? Did it hit anything major? Can you breathe ok?” he blurts out in one breath, reaching out to touch the wound but pulling back at the last moment. His eyes dart continuously between Nicky’s face and the blood and with every second that passes he seems to pale further and further.

“I’m fine,” Nicky mumbles. “We should…we should go.”

“Go?” Joe’s voice is practically a squeak.

“Yes. Go. The others might need backup, what if there are other attackers?”

Joe’s eyebrows threaten to detach from his face. “Then they’ll need you in one piece, when you’re not bleeding out,” he says softly, gesturing to the blood now covering Nicky’s hand. “Let me at least try to patch you up, just enough to get us all out of here. Please Nicolo, it’ll only take a few minutes.” He’s practically begging and the wobble in his voice has tears springing in Nicky’s eyes.

“We don’t have time,” Nicky whispers, hoping that Joe sees the apology in his eyes. “I will be fine, we have to help the others. Please, trust me. I will be ok.”

There’s a long moment of silence in which Nicky is sure that Joe will argue. His eyes are flaring with the protective streak Nicky knows so well and he’s practically holding his breath as he waits for an answer. Every moment they spend here is a moment less helping the others, but he needs to know that Joe is ok with this. He needs to know that Joe isn’t angry.

“Ok. I trust you.”

Nicky grins and goes to hug Joe.

“But-” - he stops - “stick close to me so I know you’re safe. Please?”

“I will,” he says with a solemn nod, then leans in and pecks Joe on the lips. “Thank you for trusting me.”

And as they hurry through the building to where they know Andy, Booker and Nile are, Nicky is glad that Joe is close by. Halfway up a flight of stairs, he finds himself overcome with a wave of dizziness that has him staggering to a stop, clinging to the railing with his eyes squeezed tight shut against the vertigo.

“Nicky!”

He can’t answer, so focused on breathing and trying not to be sick. His side is burning now and his t-shirt is sodden. He’s definitely going to have to burn this one, he thinks briefly and grimaces at the thought. At least it’s not his favourite shirt, though, the one he bought while he and Joe were in New York on a job.

If it was that one, the entire building would already be dead.

“Nicolo, look at me.”

Nicky forces his eyes open and has to inhale sharply through his nose against a sudden burst of nausea. He pushes it down and locks eyes with Joe, grimacing at the wide eyed terror he sees. “Yusuf,” he whispers. His voice comes out a little slurred and he hates how much that frightens him.

Joe offers him a shaky smile. “You are a stubborn man, do you know that? But even stubborn men have to rest when they are hurt. Please, wait here and I’ll check on the others. If you keep moving around, it’ll only make the bleeding worse,” he reasons, one hand clinging to Nicky’s despite the blood which stains his fingers.

“I need to watch your back,” Nicky mumbles.

“You are watching my back. You’re making sure that no one comes this way to flank me. That is helping.”

He’s not wrong, but Nicky still feels useless. And clearly Joe sees it in his eyes.

“Nicolo. You saved my life, now please save your own by resting.” There are tears in Joe’s eyes and Nicky’s chest aches at the fact that he’s the one causing this pain.

Reluctantly, he nods.

Joe places a kiss on his forehead, brushing loose strands of hair from his face. “Thank you,” he whispers and pulls Nicky’s gun from his waistband. “Keep a hold of this, it is for anyone who comes this way. And if you need me, you know the signal.”

And then he’s gone and Nicky is alone.

-

He quickly loses track of time despite his best efforts to main present and focused. The blood loss is getting to him, claiming more and more of his energy for its own. He feels sick, dizzy. His heart is racing as if he’s just run a marathon and breathing is getting to be a little difficult. Even as he presses down on the wound with the hand not holding his gun, his body weakens.

It’s clearly not happy about his earlier stubbornness.

At some point, through the fog, he hears footsteps. Big, heavy footsteps of several large bodies coming up the stairs. His arm trembles as he raises his gun and clicks off the safety. It feels heavier than it did and he has to grit his teeth and focus just to keep it raised.

The first head pops into view and he fires. The attacker is dead before he hits the ground.

He thanks the Lord that these men are idiots as they approach in single file, perfect to pick them off one by one he watches them drop after each shot and he doesn’t even have to reload to kill the final man. Four in all, each dead from a shot through the side of the head. At least his aim isn’t compromised.

As soon as he’s sure he’s safe, his arm drops and his gun scutters out his hand. He watches as it tumbles down and lands several stairs below him. So close and yet so far. “Fuck,” he whispers as another wave of dizziness assaults him. He braces one hand against the wall and keeps the other clamped over his wound to staunch the flow of blood. Why is it still bleeding? Shouldn’t it have stopped by now?

The dizziness doesn’t stop and he can’t keep his eyes open. And as he closes his eyes, he finds it far too easy to let the world fade away.

-

“-Nicky! Nicky, can you hear me? Wake up, amore mio! Nicky!”

“-shit that’s a lot of blood, he needs-.”

“Hospital, we need to get him to a hospital before he bleeds out. Grab him.”

Pain flares through his side as he’s lifted into strong, muscular arms. He bites back a scream but can’t help the way his body arches up as if trying to get away from the agony. Hands stroke his face and hair, others clamp down on his wound and others still touch his arm hesitantly. It’s all so much and he’s confused, he doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know where he’s being taken, doesn’t know why he’s in so much pain.

“Nicky, you need to calm down.”

But how can he calm down? He’s gasping for air and crying freely, all signs of stoicism gone in his exhaustion and fear.

He just wants Joe.

“Nicolo, just breathe. We’re trying to help, ok? You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be just fine I promise you. And we don’t break promises, do we? You better not start now.”

Joe? He sounds so afraid that Nicky wants to reach out and cling to him but he feels so weak that he can’t even lift his head. His fingers twitch as if he can summon Joe to him, can somehow bring him here just with this tiny gesture.

And somehow it works, because the next thing he knows there’s a calloused hand clinging to his own even as the hands on his wound push down even harder.

He lets out a howl and clings to Joe’s hand until he feels himself fading once more.

As his fingers fall limp as the last of his energy drains, Joe’s grip on his hand tightens.

-

The final time he comes to is much later and the pain is gone. In fact, he can’t feel much of anything. Something uncomfortable in the back of his hand. Something covering his mouth and nose. Fingers clutching his.

He struggles to open his eyes and for a moment the world is too bright and he has to close them again, barely holding back a quiet hiss. He waits until the burning in his eyes ceases before he tries again, this time taking it slowly. As he looks around, he realises that he’s in a hospital; the walls and ceiling are all white, the bed is moderately uncomfortable and there’s an oxygen mask helping him to breathe.

Right, he was shot, he remembers suddenly. Remembers the blood and the pain, remembers his body weakening with each passing moment.

And he remembers Joe at his side.

He glances to his left and finds Joe asleep with his head thrown back and his feet curled beneath him. Even in sleep he’s clutching Nicky’s hand with the same intensity as he always has.

Nicky smiles. Even now Joe is with him, watching over him. The amount of comfort his constant presence brings is…indescribable.

Nicky can’t imagine a life without him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
